The lunar current within the earth

It curls around the ashen, uninstructed mortals

Damn them, damn them who pity!

They shall be smitten and fed to celestial fire

Quoth the crowned and conquering one

The fiery joy, seated as a great lost god.



The eagle spake!



Fragrant steam sent up by offerings

As the night weaves her unpenetrable veil

The infinite aether of austere skies

To be airborne is to be lost to the earth

Evoken as an eagle yet swifter and deadlier

Accursed opponent twitching on the talons of eager violence



"The best blood is of the moon, monthly;

Then the fresh blood of a child or dropping

from the host of heaven; Then of enemies;

Then of the priest or the worshippers; Last of

some beast, no matter what."

- LIBER AL vel LEGIS



OL SONF VORSAG VABZIR CAMLIAX

CASARMAN VPAAHI TOH VONPH